


Impress Me

by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Chef Harry, Fluff, Homeless Louis, Louis is pretty vulnerable at the start of this fic, M/M, OT5 Friendship, also very brief mention of Simon, but I promise everyone is human, but also Chef Louis, but especially zouim, inspired by Ratatouille, tbh they're all chefs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 23:26:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18679438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarah_writes/pseuds/lightswoodmagic
Summary: “Everyone can cook, Harry, you just have to be taught by the right person,” Louis said, and Harry watched as he stood up and brushed the dirt off his arse.“I don’t think you can teach what you just did, though,” Harry replied with a small laugh, grabbing the bowl and standing as well, “seems like more of a natural talent, if ‘m honest.”Louis laughed, and Harry’s heart thumped in his chest. It was impossible to ignore how attractive Louis was, but he concentrated on listening when Louis spoke again. “Well if I can ever help somehow, let me know.”“Maybe you can?” Harry said carefully, studying Louis’ facial expressions as he continued, “could you possibly tell me how to fix this?” He waved the bowl in his hand, chuckling when Louis grinned.Or, Harry's a new chef who can't cook to save himself, but when he meets Louis, he learns more than he thought possible





	Impress Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! :)
> 
> This little fic for Disney Direction is based on a prompt of Ratatouille, but with Louis as a homeless man who teaches Harry to cook and about food. 
> 
> A massive thank you to my group chats for the constant encouragement, and to the always incredible Caroline.
> 
> I hope you like it! 
> 
> xx

Harry stood in front of the beaten wooden desk, his hands crossed in front of his body as he fidgeted. He kept his eyes trained on the small mountain of papers thrown haphazardly onto the surface as he kept quiet. Even with the office door closed, he could still hear the flurry of activity and chatter from the other chefs as they cleaned the kitchen from lunch that had just finished, and prepped for dinner service.

“You know I like you, Harry,” Greg continued with a sigh, “but you’re just not improving at the rate of other junior chefs we’ve had.”

Harry swallowed heavily. Greg was a friend of his family’s and when Harry had needed a job, Greg had offered him one at the restaurant where he was the executive chef. He’d told Harry he’d be starting at the bottom, learning as he worked his way up the kitchen hierarchy. Harry had been incredibly grateful, but there was the slight problem that Harry didn’t know how to cook, really, and had never cared much to learn. He knew the basics, just enough to keep him from starving, but he’d just never been that passionate about food. Besides, he figured there was nothing wrong with pot noodle and take out. He’d been working as hard as he could though, trying his best to wrap his head around the fast pace of the kitchen and somehow simultaneously stay out of everyone’s way. He could still remember the way Zayn, the sous chef, had torn him apart with a single glance when Harry accidentally tripped and almost knocked over the saucepan of jus that Zayn had spent hours perfecting. He’d apologised profusely and since then they’d formed a tentative friendship, but he knew that was only due to Liam, head chef and Zayn’s boyfriend.

“...are you even listening, Harry? Help me to help you, okay? Help me, help you,” Greg stated exasperatedly, and Harry watched as his hands gestured wildly between them. “You have to improve. I’m sorry mate, but if you don’t get any better soon, I’m going to have to let you go, and I really don’t want to do that. I think you’d be great if you just gave it a proper chance, yeah?” His face was soft and concerned, but he looked resigned as he heaved up out of his chair. “Come with me.” Harry exhaled a deep breath and followed Greg back out into the kitchen, where he was led straight over to a stock pot. It was filled with a thin, tomato based soup that had a complicated sounding French name; he’d tried to say it numerous times now, and Niall, the chef de partie, had just barked with laughter every time before patting him kindly on the shoulder. Harry started suddenly when Greg spoke again. “Now, I don’t know exactly what you did to this bouillabaisse that Zayn started on, but Liam tried some earlier and almost choked,” Greg explained as he raised an eyebrow, but there was a small smile on his lips. Liam was one of the nicest people Harry had ever met; the exact opposite of what a head chef should be, apparently. He could only imagine the way Liam would’ve tried to pretend everything was fine.

“I’m sorry,” Harry sighed as he peered into the pot, swirling the ladle through the orange liquid, “I just added in whatever Zayn pointed at. It looks okay?” He shrugged and tried to grin, but it slid off his face when Greg groaned.

“The colour’s fine, but just – actually, you know what?” Greg grabbed a bowl from next to him before filling the dish as Harry looked on curiously, “before you go home, take this with you out the back and see if you can tell what’s wrong with it. You tried Zayn’s proper one the other day. It’ll be a fun exercise for you.”

Harry slowly reached out and took the bowl from Greg’s hands. He looked like he’d just thought of the best idea he’d ever had, but Harry was quick to retort. “I don’t remember what it’s supposed to taste like!” he protested, but Greg still shoved a spoon into the liquid and shooed him outside, “how am I supposed to fix it when I don’t know why it’s broken?”

The back door shut with a bang behind him, and Harry stood awkwardly for a moment before he groaned and threw himself gently down onto one of the upturned plastic crates nearby. He squirmed for a while to find a way to accommodate his legs before resting the bowl of broth on his knees and bringing a spoonful to his lips and tasting it.

His mouth was instantly filled with heat, and his mouth and throat burnt from the spice that shot through him. He could hardly taste anything as he flailed slightly, but he still knew there was something wrong; he couldn’t remember exactly what Zayn’s had tasted like, but he knew it was _nothing_ like this. He yelped as hot liquid splashed onto his thigh from where he’d jolted, and he swore when another sharp movement caused broth to slosh out of the bowl.

“Ow ow ow,” Harry chanted, his eyes squeezed shut. Through his haze of _ow, spicy, fuck, hot, burning_ , he heard cautious footsteps approaching before a voice spoke, and his watery eyes snapped open.

“Are you okay? That looks painful.” The voice sounded slightly amused, and Harry couldn’t help but huff out a laugh.

“It’s definitely not a tonne of fun, that’s for sure,” he joked as he wiped his eyes on his sleeve. His rapidly blinking eyes finally cleared, and _oh._

Standing in front of him in ripped, dirty black jeans and a grey hoodie was someone he’d never seen before. Piercing blue eyes looked at him curiously as a dainty hand swept a strand of hair off his forehead. Before Harry could introduce himself, the stranger was looking down into the bowl with a scrunched up nose.

“What even is that?” he asked, pointing at the broth. “It almost looks like it’s _trying_ to be a bouillabaisse, but I can smell from here that it’s – ”

“I haven’t seen you before,” Harry blurted out, and he felt heat rush to his cheeks as the other man’s eyebrows quirked up, “I mean, I’ve worked here for two weeks, and no one really comes back into the alley unless they work here, so I just thought we would’ve met by now,” he trailed off awkwardly. “I’m Harry, by the way.” He reached the hand not balancing the soup out to Louis, who moved forward to shake it with a now slightly guarded expression.

“Good to meet you, Harry. ‘M Louis,” the man ( _Louis_ , Harry’s brain helpfully supplied) responded, “and I don’t work here. I sleep just around the corner.” Harry took a sharp intake of breath when he realised that around the corner was just another alley, and a well-known safe place for the homeless, or as safe as it could be. He quickly shut his mouth when Louis spun to look at him with narrowed eyes. “I’m fine, mate.” His voice was sure, but Harry’s heart broke slightly at the thought of anyone needing to sleep on the streets.

Harry was quiet for a moment as the tension built in the air, surrounding them. He hesitantly held out the bowl. “Eat this, Louis. Please.”

“I don’t need anyone’s help or any handouts,” Louis said quietly, but his voice was suddenly ice cold, and the change in his demeanour caused Harry to stay perfectly still as his mouth dropped open, “I’ve managed for six months, alright? I don’t need your sympathy.”

“I – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Harry said quietly, and he extended his arm out even more, “I just thought maybe you’d be hungry, that’s all. I shouldn’t have assumed, I’m sorry. That was awful of me.”

Louis seemed to assess him for a moment before he sighed dramatically and sat on the ground next to Harry. “Thank you,” Louis’ voice was still cautious, but he reached over and took the bowl from Harry’s hand, “I appreciate it, but it’s hard to know who to trust, you know? I’m sick of people looking at me the way they do,” Louis explained as he sniffed the broth and took a careful mouthful.

“I’m sorry, Louis. I just – ” Harry was cut off when Louis coughed, sticking his tongue out of his mouth and placing the bowl roughly next to him.

“What. The fuck. Is that?”

Harry’s gaped at Louis, and realised it was becoming a common occurrence. “It’s supposed to be a booya – something,” he stumbled over his words as Louis let out an amused sound. The look of disgust on his face hadn’t faded, however.

“Well it bloody well isn’t. Someone’s somehow mixed up dill and fennel, put in ten times the amount of cayenne pepper, and left the tomato seeds in,” Louis grimaced as he glared at the bowl.

“How did you figure all that out with _one_ small mouthful?” Harry asked. He’d never even seen Greg or Liam dissect a dish that quickly, and Louis had done it with what looked like practiced ease. “Why aren’t you a chef? That was incredible.”

Louis smiled sadly, his fingers playing with the rip in the knee of his jeans. “I was, actually. I used to be a head chef at one the best restaurants in London, but,” he sighed, and Harry’s heart ached, “my boss at the time accused me of stealing and fired me. I tried so hard to get another job, but he basically owns the hospitality industry here. I couldn’t pay rent anymore, so I stayed with friends for a while, but I hate being a burden, so I just left,” Louis finished with a whisper.

“Did you tell them you were leaving? Are you still in touch with them? Surely you could – ”

“No Harry, I didn’t tell them,” Louis cut him off, “I know it’s shitty of me, and I know they’re probably worried sick, and I _know_ , alright? But they deserved time in their home to be together without their deadbeat best mate dragging them down.”

Harry made a small noise of protest in the back of his throat. “You’re not a deadbeat, Louis, and I’m sure they never thought that.”

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this!” Louis exclaimed, and his hands moved wildly as he spoke, “I don’t know you _at all_. It’s not like you care anyway.”

“I _do_ care, Louis, I – ”

“Who made the bouillabaisse? They should be fired.”

Harry sighed, shifting forward on the crate to rest his chin on his hands, his elbows propped up on his knees. “I did.” At Louis’ judgemental gaze, he rushed to defend himself. “I know nothing about cooking! I got offered this job because I didn’t have one and my mum knows Greg, and everyone’s been so nice but I don’t really know _anything_ about food – ” Harry ignored the whispered _well that’s obvious_ from Louis – “and he said he’d fire me if I didn’t improve but I don’t know _how_. Niall’s doing his best to teach me, but I think I’m a lost cause,” Harry finished with a whine, but when he looked at Louis, the other man was grinning at him.

“Everyone can cook, Harry, you just have to be taught by the right person,” Louis said, and Harry watched as he stood up and brushed the dirt off his arse. If his eyes lingered for a moment, no one needed to know.

“I don’t think you can teach what you just did, though,” Harry replied with a small laugh, grabbing the bowl and standing as well, “seems like more of a natural talent, if ‘m honest.”

Louis laughed, and Harry’s heart thumped in his chest. It was impossible to ignore how attractive Louis was, but he concentrated on listening when Louis spoke again. “Well if I can ever help somehow, let me know.”

“Maybe you can?” Harry said carefully, studying Louis’ facial expressions as he continued, “could you possibly tell me how to fix this?” He waved the bowl in his hand, chuckling when Louis grinned.

“There’s nothing you can do to fix that one, love,” Louis said as he laughed, and Harry stared at him as the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I could help you make a new one from scratch, though, if I could slip into that kitchen somehow,” he said with a wry smile, but Harry reached out to touch Louis’ arm before he let it drop in the space between them. Louis wasn’t a friend, Harry chastised himself, and he respected and understood that Louis was cautious of the over excited 24 year old stranger sitting on his own in an alley. That didn’t stop him from saying what he said next, though.

“You can come to my place! We can stop for groceries and you can help me make it better,” Harry exclaimed, giddy with excitement as he realised maybe he could keep his job. Even though he wasn’t passionate about cooking, he hated letting people down, and he knew he had to work harder. Greg deserved staff who knew what they were doing, and the other chefs deserved someone they could trust to not fuck everything up. Harry sent a silent apology to Zayn.

“You can’t be fucking serious, mate,” Louis’ voice was angry but nervous, and Harry tried to speak when he realised what it’d sounded like, “there’s no way I can do that. You don’t even know me! I could be a serial killer.” Louis stopped for a moment before he pointed at him. “ _You_ could be a serial killer!”

Harry shifted awkwardly. “I promise I’m not a serial killer, and I’m sure you’re not a serial killer, and before you say anything I just,” Harry sighed as his head dropped forward, “I just want to learn to cook.” Harry paused as he took in the odd look on Louis’ face; he couldn’t help feeling that he just kept fucking this up. He started to explain as he stumbled over the crate he’d just been sitting on in his rush to back up. “I’m sorry, I’ve _just_ realised how creepy this all was, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, you don’t have to, oh my God you must think I’m a _predator_ of some kind, I didn’t mean to – ”

Louis held up a hand, and Harry stopped talking immediately. “I will help you on two conditions.”

“Of course, anything, thank you.”

“One,” Louis held up his index finger as he spoke, “I will not sleep at your house. I’m not a charity, Harry, and I don’t need to be _saved,_ yeah?” He looked expectantly at Harry, and Harry nodded immediately, his eyes crossing slightly as Louis raised another finger an inch from his face. “Okay, and two; if I get any kind of hint that this is some kind of ploy to get me into bed, I will absolutely end you. Am I clear?”

Harry swallowed heavily; Louis was intimidating, but his conditions were perfectly reasonable. His heart broke slightly when he thought about how many people had possibly tried to take advantage of Louis. “Crystal. I’d never treat you like that.”

He watched as Louis stared at him for a moment before he moved suddenly, clapping his hands and making Harry jump. “Good. Now, dump that bowl back in the kitchen and let’s go, Harold.”

“It’s just Harry.”

A heavy sigh. “I don’t care, mate.”

Rude.

By the end of the night, Harry had a perfect bouillabaisse sitting in front of him, Louis sitting on a stool to the left of him, dishes and food covering his kitchen, and he was so happy that he’d almost cried.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered, pouting when Louis giggled. “Heyyyy, it is! I worked hard on it,” he stuck his lower lip out more when Louis rolled his eyes, but the small grin playing on the other man’s lips made his stomach flutter. “Thank you, honestly. I _probably_ won’t get fired now.”

Louis shot him a small smile before he stood. “You’re welcome Harry. If you need anything else, let me know. It’s been,” he paused, and Harry couldn’t look away, “really lovely spending time with someone again, and getting back in the kitchen. I should go though. I’ll see you around.”

He was almost out the door before Harry snapped into action and rushed after him. “Come back next week!” he watched with bated breath as Louis spun around slowly to level him with a stare, “I mean, I can make this _one thing_ now, but I’m still useless with everything else. I’ll pay you, like cooking lessons, please Louis.”

“Fine,” Harry felt his heart leap into his throat at Louis’ quick response, “but just know that the main reason I’m coming back is because I’m scared for the safety and wellbeing of everyone you work with. You’re just a tangle of limbs, so the more control you have over a knife and the ingredients, the better.”

Harry beamed at him and reached out to shake his hand. “So, it’s a deal then? I only work the lunch shift on Tuesdays, so you can come ‘round any time after that.”

Louis hesitated for a moment before he looked Harry up and down, indecision clear on his face. Harry felt his cheeks flush, but then Louis huffed out a laugh, shook his head, and clasped Harry’s hand. “It’s a deal, love.”

******

“Hey Styles, how the fuck did you make this? It’s _incredible_ ,” Niall moaned, sucking on the spoon in his mouth before he pulled it out with a _pop_.

Zayn eyed Niall with a slightly disgusted look, his eyebrows raised as he spooned some of the jus Harry had made into his mouth. Harry startled when Zayn spun around completely to face him. “Harry,” he said slowly, and Harry looked desperately at Liam over Zayn’s shoulder as he stepped towards him. Liam was too distracted by the pot of sauce, and Harry was kicking himself as Zayn drew closer. “Harry,” he repeated, and their eyes locked, “this is brilliant. I’m really proud of you.” With a clap of his hand on his shoulder and a small smile, Zayn was back with Liam as they dissected the jus, and Harry was left to stand confused on his own.

“Thank you?” he said hesitantly, and he settled when he saw Zayn’s lips quirk up even more.

“This is delicious, mate,” Liam said happily, resting his free hand at the small of Zayn’s back. Harry watched as Zayn shifted into the touch, and he couldn’t help but grin. They were cute as _fuck._ “Now, don’t take this the wrong way but you’ve improved dramatically in the last couple of months, and we were just wondering – ”

“What’s your secret?” Niall interrupted loudly, jumping up on the bench before immediately jolting back with a pout when Zayn whacked him in the chest. “ _Ow._ Anyway, have you been hustling us all along? Have you switched bodies with someone else? Have you been studying? Tell ussss.”

Harry laughed and ducked to avoid Niall’s hands where they tried to dig into his ribs. “I just met someone who used to be a chef, and he’s been helping me with a lot of stuff. No real secret Ni, I’m sorry, just an extra teacher.”

Louis had settled into Harry’s life so quickly and easily that it seemed like he belonged there, that it was the most obvious answer to all of the questions about Harry’s life that he hadn’t let himself ask yet. Over the last three months, once a week had become twice a week, and then three times, and now Harry’s place didn’t really feel like home unless Louis was there almost every day, teaching Harry everything he knew about food and how to appreciate even the simplest of ingredients. Louis had not only opened Harry eyes up to the joy, love, and feeling of contentment and pride that came with cooking but had also made him passionate about all types of foods and ingredients. Harry learnt constantly whenever Louis was over, the way Louis spoke with such joy and happiness about food helping him stay motivated. He’d never enjoyed someone’s company as much as Louis’, but the feelings he’d developed for the other man threatened to destroy the fragile friendship they’d developed. Louis was just so kind and funny, so intelligent and thoughtful, but full of quick wit and sassy clapbacks. He was stunning, both inside and out, and, as Harry has learnt one night whilst Louis taught him how to properly chop an onion, missed his friends more than anything. He loved his family, was a pillar of strength and hardship and was so passionate about his career, and Harry had found himself falling for Louis with every wall that he gently broke through as Louis opened up about his life. However, Harry respected and cared about Louis too much to try anything; Louis’ rules had been clear, and the last thing Harry wanted was for Louis to feel like he was being used. He’d tried to flirt a little, fleeting touches and soft sentences, but Louis either wasn’t interested or was oblivious. Harry had given up hope and happily settled into the friendship they had now. A friendship with someone as wonderful as Louis was better than nothing, after all. Louis still left every night, refusing to sleep on Harry’s couch, and while Harry knew logically he’d be okay, there was also a haze of worry that followed him everywhere he went until he saw Louis’ face again.

“Well he’s basically a miracle worker, if he’s taught you how to cook like this so quickly,” Zayn teased, running his hand down Liam’s arm as he wandered over to an oven that’d just beeped. “You’ll have to introduce us. What’ve you got cooking in here? I can’t wait to try it now.”

“It’s ratatouille,” Harry responded, smiling softly at the memory of Louis barefoot in his kitchen, “it’s one of his specialties, apparently.”

_“Haz, Harold, Hazza, pay attention please,” Louis groaned, flicking a small piece of eggplant at Harry’s face, “this is the most important bit, yeah? They have to be cut exactly like this.”_

_Harry looked down at the coloured vegetables in front of him and frowned, huffing a breath out of his mouth to move his hair out of his face. He stuck his tongue out in concentration as he thinly sliced through the tomato. “Why couldn’t we use a mandoline to cut these? They have to be so tiny!” he whined, huffing again as a curl fell over his forehead._

_Louis laughed, slicing quickly and evenly without even looking at his hands. “We could’ve, love, but you don’t have one. It’s a good skill for you to learn regardless. Anyway, I’ll have to show you one of my signatures; it’s all in the presentation, Harry. You’ll see.” He rolled his eyes when he looked at Harry, placing the knife on the bench and reaching out. Harry’s heart stopped as Louis gently tucked the wayward curl behind his ear, stroking the shell of his ear softly until Harry shuddered. “Careful. I love your curls, but maybe the kitchen isn’t the best place for them to be flying around, yeah? Now c’mon. Impress me.”_

Harry sighed happily as he remembered the feeling of Louis’ hands on him, but was pulled out of his thoughts by a shared gasp between Zayn and Liam as Niall spoke.

“Oh, that looks _sick!_ ” Niall’s voice cut through the air as he placed the dish on a bench, and Harry bounded over, “it looks like a rose. Where did you learn to do that?” Just as Harry opened his mouth to speak, Zayn interrupted even as Liam whispered in his ear.

“Who taught you this?” Zayn’s voice was cold and desperate.

“Louis taught me. He’s the one that’s been – ” he stopped when Zayn let out a small sob and his hand flew up to cover his mouth.

“Where is he now, Harry?” Liam asked softly, wrapping an arm around Zayn’s shoulders and pulling him into his body. Harry watched in bewilderment just as Greg came over.

“What’s going on? Zayn, are you alright?” Greg asked, and all it took were three simple words from Liam to make Greg’s mouth hang open.

“We found Louis.”

Suddenly there was commotion around him, and Harry had no idea what to do, or what was going on. Greg was shouting orders, telling them they had to leave to go get Louis, pushing coats and scarves into their arms and bundling all four of them out the door with the promise that he’d help clean up the kitchen now that service was over. “Louis’ safety is the most important thing. Just go now, tell him I already have a job for him, and bring him back here when he’s ready,” Greg said firmly, before shutting the door behind them.

“Harry, I know this is confusing, but where’s Louis now?” Liam asked again, and Zayn was staring at him with a wobbly bottom lip.

“I – I think,” he took a deep breath and pushed down his bewilderment, “he should be at my place by now. He knows where the spare key is, and I was going to be home soon.”

Harry felt firm hands guiding him into a taxi, and Niall broke the tense silence when the car drove away from the curb.

“Hey, quick question,” Niall asked, and Harry turned to look at him, “who the fuck is Louis?”

*****

Harry had only just unlocked the door when Zayn barged through. His entire attitude seemed to have shifted during the ride over, and now his whole attitude was different.

“Zayn, stop,” Liam said firmly, reaching out and grasping his elbow. Harry took the opportunity to slip past and run to the kitchen, and he stopped in the doorway when Louis swung around to greet him.

“Hey Haz, how was work?” the smile on his face slipped, and he stepped forward, “are you okay, love?” Harry could feel when Zayn came up behind him, and he took a quick step to the left so he could get through. Louis’ eyes widened and he dropped the spoon he was holding. “Zayn? Oh my _God,_ Zaynie,” Louis choked on a sob, and Harry grabbed Niall and moved them as far away as possible in the small space.

“Lou,” Zayn responded quietly, and then his face crumpled and he was stepping forward to wrap Louis in his arms so tightly Harry was suddenly worried neither of them could breathe. He could hear them both crying, and he felt Niall poke him softly just as Liam stepped properly into the room.

“What the fuck is happening?” Niall whispered, both of them watching as Liam’s eyes filled with tears, his arms wrapping around Louis and Zayn as they all shifted so Louis could bury his head in Liam’s neck.

“I have no idea, to be honest,” he whispered back, and he could faintly hear Louis quietly chanting.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Zayn pulled back and wiped his eyes before he saw Niall and Harry standing awkwardly in the corner. “We should all have a chat, I think.”

An hour later, they were all curled up in Harry’s living room, and it all made a bit more sense. Liam and Zayn were Louis’ best friends, the ones he’d lived with when everything had fallen apart, the ones he’d left in the middle of the day while they were at work because he didn’t want to be a burden, and that hadn’t seen him in over nine months now. They’d already convinced him to move back in with them, and the death grip Zayn had on Louis’ shirt suggested he was never going to take no for an answer.

“Greg has a job for you, Tommo,” Liam said, one arm slung around Louis’ shoulders, his other hand stroking through Zayn’s hair where his head rested in Louis’ lap. Harry smiled softly at the image of love and protection they made. “He forced us out of the kitchen when we realised where you were and told us to bring you back the moment you were ready. Simon can’t get to you anymore, mate. He’s pretty much been blacklisted.”

Louis had been surprisingly quiet the whole time, whispering apology after apology until the other boys had made him stop, but he spoke up now. “How did you know where I was?”

“That was my fault, I’m sorry,” Harry answered, “I made your ratatouille, and they recognised the rose shape. I’d kind of been talking about you a bit anyway, but I hadn’t mentioned your name.” Louis nodded slowly, stretching. Harry’s eyes snapped to the sliver of skin the movement showed at his waist, and when he looked back up, Louis’ eyes were lit in amusement. “I – wait, that’s my jumper,” Harry croaked out, and his fingers itched to reach out and touch. He remembered leaving it on one of the stools yesterday, and he sat on his hands to stop himself, flushing when Louis quirked an eyebrow. “It suits you,” he finished quietly.

“Thanks, Haz,” Louis grinned, and Harry felt like Louis’ relief and happiness was a tangible force in the room. He’d just shifted closer to rest his head on Louis’ knee when Liam spoke.

“Alright, we should get you home,” he said to Louis, and Harry watched Louis’ eyes light up at the thought, “all your stuff is still there from when you left.”

“You kept it?” Louis choked out.

“Of course. You were always going to come home,” Zayn mumbled sleepily from Louis’ lap.

It wasn’t until they were leaving that Louis stepped up to Harry, wrapping his arms around his waist and squeezing. Harry was frozen for a moment, but when Louis just seemed to relax further into his body, Harry’s arms flew up to cuddle Louis against his chest.

“Thank you, Harry,” he murmured, and Harry pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, “thank you so much.”

“I didn’t really do anything, but you’re welcome,” he whispered back, grinning when Louis chuckled.

“I’ll see you soon, alright?” Louis assured him, walking backwards as Niall watched warily to make sure he didn’t trip, “our lessons are nowhere near done.”

With a nod, a laugh, and a wave, Harry watched as they all left, and he felt light when he went to bed later with a smile on his face.

******

Harry didn’t see Louis for three weeks. He tried not to let it get to him; Louis had been through so much, and he was finally home and warm and safe, but he missed him so much. When he’d asked Liam and Zayn about him, they’d told him to be patient. By the end of the second week, Zayn had snapped.

“Harry, I love you, and I love me best mate, but if you don’t stop fucking talking about him, I’m going to shove your head into that sink of dishes.”

Harry hadn’t asked Zayn again.

Liam still kept him up to date though, but Harry realised he’d kept some things closely guarded when he walked in for lunch service one day to find Louis standing behind a bench, laughing with Niall and cutting carrots.

“Louis,” he whispered as he walked forward quickly, “what are you doing – _umf_.” He was suddenly cut off by Louis’ lips pressed gently against his. Louis had kissed him. Louis was kissing him. They were _kissing_ , in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by people wolf whistling, and Harry jolted when he actually realised; _oh shit, Louis’ kissing me_. He responded quickly, one hand settling on Louis’ waist as the other came up to cup his cheek, his thumb stroking over the soft skin. Louis’ lips parted with a sigh, and Harry pressed closer, licking into Louis’ mouth as nimble fingers tangled in his curls. A bread roll hit him in the side of the face and made him draw back, and he glared at Niall as he grinned innocently, a basket of rolls on the bench in front of him.

“Hey Haz,” Louis said quietly, and Harry eyes snapped back to meet his. _So gorgeous_.

“Hey Lou,” Harry replied, his voice just as soft as he brushed their noses together. He saw Louis smile, and he pulled back to press a quick kiss to his nose. “What was that for?”

Louis shifted in his arms, humming when Harry moved his hand to rest against his neck. He could feel Louis’ pulse hammering, and he tried to rub his thumb soothingly against his skin. “I’ve wanted you for months, Harry, ever since I saw you, ‘f I’m honest. I just had to be sure it wasn’t a weird kink or something for you, trying to rescue me from myself or some shit. I wanted to feel stable again, have a house and job before I told you how I felt.”

“And how do you feel?” Harry said as he grinned, his heart racing at Louis’ warm chuckle. Louis’ hands were running up and down his back, and he couldn’t help but assume he was dreaming.

“I like you, yeah? I wanna kiss you, and go on dates, and hold hands and all of that gross stuff,” Harry laughed as Louis grinned at him, “you have no idea how much you’ve helped me this last few months, Haz, and I need to apologise. I knew how you felt,” Harry let out a sound of protest, “you’re not very subtle, but I had to be sure you wanted me for the right reasons. So, do you?”

Harry stared down at Louis before he wrapped both arms around his waist and lifted him off the ground, kissing him soundly with a laugh. “I want you for a million reasons, Louis,” he murmured after he pulled back, “I want you because you make me laugh, and we can talk for hours, and you’re so kind and generous and strong.” He kissed him again, ignoring what he knew to be Greg’s heavy sigh across the strangely quiet kitchen. “You made me love food, Louis. You helped me find a passion I didn’t even think I felt. Let me cook you dinner, tomorrow night,” he mumbled against Louis’ lips as another roll hit them and landed to rest where their chests were pressed together.

“You’ll have to impress me, Styles. I’m not easily pleased,” Louis retorted, but it sounded so much like a yes that the next roll that hit him in the face was worth it.

And if a bread fight broke out when Harry finally put Louis back on the ground, Niall was completely to blame.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> Kudos and comments make me happy, if you're so inclined :) 
> 
> If you like, come visit me on [Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lightwoodsmagic)
> 
> x


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